He sat back and took her hand. “Lucy, you have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.”
Wait! What was she doing? Conrad might show up any moment. She was betrothed for heaven’s sake!
“Oliver, I can’t—”
He shook his head. “I have some things to tell you. Very important things.”
A sigh escaped from her lips. She couldn’t imagine why he was there. Or what he wanted to tell her that would make any difference to her situation. But since she might never see him again, hear his soothing voice, she’d listen now. Listen to whatever it was he had to say, before… before he left and never returned.
“Very well. What do you need to tell me?”
His hands enveloped hers. The warmth of his skin comforted her.
“Do you know of a family by the name of Shipley?”
Lucy frowned and then nodded. “Yes, of course. I’ve heard my father speak of them. They’re quite wealthy, from what I hear. Father has said more than once that he wished to have their fortune.”
“And have you ever met them? This Shipley family?”
“No, I haven’t. They don’t seem to make appearances at any events where I’ve been. Not even the son. Which seems strange, since he would still be quite young. At an age where most men like to congregate with other young men. And women.”
“And why do you suppose that would be? That this young Shipley fellow wouldn’t associate with his peers?”
“I haven’t a clue.” She frowned. “Oliver, why all these questions about the Shipleys? I don’t even know them. Do you?”
He smiled. “Oh, yes. I’m acquainted with them quite well.”
“Then surely you know the answer to your own question better than I.”
Oliver nodded. “Indeed, I do.”
She shook her head and smiled. “Then perhaps you could tell me why a young, wealthy man might choose to distance himself from his peerage?”
“I will do just that.” He folded his arms over his chest. “The way I understand him, this Shipley fellow, he has very strong reasons for keeping to himself.”
“Oh? And what might those be?”
“You see, he doesn’t put much importance on parties and dances.”
“He doesn’t?”
“Oh, no. He’d rather use his time to pursue activities that bring him joy. And purpose.”
“And what might those activities be?”
“Lucy, I know you’ve never met this Shipley man, but, do you happen to know what his Christian name is?”
“No. I don’t.” Why is he rattling on about this family? It makes no sense.
“Oliver.”
“Pardon?”
“That’s his name.”
Lucy tilted her head. “You and he share the same name?”
“In a way.”
“You’re doing it again.”
“What’s that?”
“Talking in riddles.” As much as she was enjoying their banter, surely Conrad would come for her soon. And she had no wish to waste precious minutes with Oliver discussing that Shipley fellow. A glance over her shoulder showed them to still be alone. But it couldn’t be long before…
“He’ll not be coming.”
She turned back. “How can you be sure? He’s the greediest man I know and won’t let anything stand in his way of getting his hands on—” She looked down at her lap.
“You. And your inheritance?”
She nodded.
“Lucy, if I may ask, how do you feel about your betrothed?”
“As I would feel about a snake that slithers into the room, frightening everyone away with his disgusting—” She gasped and her eyes widened as she stared at him. “Oh! That sounded—”
“Honest.”
“Still, I shouldn’t speak of him… of my intended in such a fashion.”
“How should you speak of your intended?”
“If I loved him, which I don’t, I’d love to talk about him. His pleasant manner, the way he held my hand…” She glanced down and pulled hers from Oliver’s.
“I see. But you don’t love Lofton.”
“Of course not.”
“Then why are you marrying him?”
She shrugged. “I’m not being given a choice.” Tears burned at the back of her eyes, threatening to emerge any moment.
“And why is that?”
“In a word, Father. He wants me to marry above our station so he can benefit the most from it.”
“And what if there were someone who wanted to marry you who had even more wealth than Lofton?”
“I’m sure there are many who have more assets than Conrad, but none so far who have asked for my hand.”
“But that’s where you’re wrong.” His voice came out as nearly a whisper.
“What are you about, Oliver? Why all this talk, when it can lead to nothing but my own sadness and heartache?”
“Lucy, do you remember the day you entered your father’s study and I was there?”
“Yes, of course. And I’ve long pondered the reason you were there.” She flicked a glance at his coat. “And why you were dressed much as you are now.”
“I was there to discuss a matter of great importance with your father.”
“Was it about employment?”
He smiled. “No. Something much more important than that.”
“But what could you possibly have had to discuss with my father?”
“You.”
“You were there to discuss me? But why?”
He swallowed and looked down at his hands, which rested in his lap. “I was there to ask for your hand in marriage.”
“Ahh!” Her hand flew to her mouth, stifling a second gasp. “But…”
He edged closer to her and reached up to remove her hand from her face. He clasped it and instead rested her palm against his own cheek. He closed his eyes and then opened them. “Lucy. I love you. I want to marry you.”
“Oh, Oliver.” Tears now hovered just on the edges of her lashes. He did love her! He did! “But I’m sure my father said no.”
“That’s correct.”
Her shoulders slumped, even though it was the answer she knew she would hear.
He took her hand away from his cheek and pressed his lips to her palm.
“Oh, my. Um. Oliver, we shouldn’t be—”
“Let me finish, all right?”
She nodded. But what could he possibly say now? Her father had declined his offer of marriage to her.
“Lucy, I have loved you since that first day I saw you sketching the nuthatch.”
A smile touched her lips. “In the cutaway coat?”
“Yes. Do you… have you any feelings… for me?”
“Oh, yes. Yes.”
“And what might those be?”
She swallowed. “I… have loved you since the first… as well.”
A heavy sigh, as if from somewhere deep inside, came from his lips. “I’d hoped as much, but I’m glad to hear the words, just the same.”
“But my father…”
“Don’t worry about him.”
“But I must.” Was Oliver going to ask her to elope? She would, of course. But then they would be nearly destitute, wouldn’t they? He had no money, and if she eloped, she wouldn’t either.
“While it’s true that your father said no to my offer… my original offer, his answer for my second was quite different.”
“You mean he…?”
“After a long discussion, yes he accepted.”
“Oh!” She jumped up and landed on his lap.
“Oof! Lucy! Have a care!” He glanced downward.
Heat suffused her whole person. “Oh dear. I’m…” She stood and moved away. But he grabbed her hand. “Just because I don’t want you jumping on that particular uh, part of me at present, doesn’t mean I don’t desire you to be close.” He wrapped her in his arms and pressed her head against his chest.
“But how did you get Father to agree? He’s so… greed
y, and you have no…”
“That’s where my story gets interesting.”
“It does?”
“Remember when I mentioned that the young Mr. Shipley and I have the same name?”
“Yes.”
“Then perhaps you’d like to meet him.”
“Who?”
“Oliver Shipley?”
“But why would I?”
“Because he and I are one and the same.”
She pulled away and stared at him. “What? Oliver. You mean you’re—?”
“Yes. Wealthy and then some.”
“So that’s why my father—?”
“Yes.”
“Oh. Oh my. This is all so… unexpected.”
He tilted his head. “But a good surprise, I hope.”
“The best. The best possible surprise.”
“You know, you haven’t answered my question.”
“I don’t believe I remember hearing one.”
“That you haven’t.” His smiled widened. “Lucy Ashbrook, will you marry me?”
“Yes, Oliver Shipley, I would love nothing better than to be your wife.”
He pulled her onto his lap, this time gently. Fitting her tightly against him with one arm, he caressed her face with his other hand. He peered into her eyes and pulled his lips upward in a smile. And again, two dimples appeared, Lucy sighed. It was all so perfect, so right. Her gaze fell to his lips, after he glanced at hers. She was ready. Oh so ready.
His breath was warm and inviting, feathering across her cheek before he touched his lips to hers. And then, his lips, so soft and warm, pressed against hers. First only lightly. Then with more pressure. Heat shot downward, all the way to her toes. She placed both hands on the side of his head and tugged him closer. She wanted more. Much, much more.
Alas, he broke contact and drew back. Lucy sighed. “I can’t believe we’re going to be together. Married. It’s my dream come true.”
“I can’t believe it either. May I kiss you again, my little dove?”
Lucy raised an eyebrow “Little dove?” She smiled. “At least you didn’t call me a little cuckoo.”
If Oliver's laugh was any indication, Lucy would have a joyful life. She smiled. Yes, a joyful life indeed.
The End
Ruth J. Hartman spends her days herding cats and her nights spinning sweet romantic tales that make you smile, giggle, or laugh out loud. She, her husband, and their three cats love to spend time curled up in their recliners watching old Cary Grant movies. Well, the cats, Maxwell, Roxy and Remmie, sit in the people's recliners. Not that the cats couldn't get their own furniture. They just choose to shed on someone else's. You know how selfish those little furry creatures can be.
Ruth, a left-handed, cat-herding, Jeep driving, farmhouse-dwelling romance writer uses her goofy sense of humor as she writes tales of lovable, klutzy women and the men who adore them. Ruth's husband and best friend, Garry, reads her manuscripts, rolls his eyes at her weird story ideas, and loves her in spite of her penchant for insisting all of her books have at least one cat in them. Or twelve. But hey, who's counting?
You can contact Ruth at:
http://ruthjhartman.blogspot.com/ https://www.facebook.com/ruth.j.hartman
https://twitter.com/RuthjHartman
http://www.goodreads.com/author/show/3312900.Ruth_J_Hartman
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Love Birds of Regent's Park Page 14
